All You Need
by KAirismatic
Summary: The American Great Depression, 1910-1960. UKUS.


Face in his hands, curled away in a Great Depression, he never thought he'd get up again.

There were still the deafening sounds of bullets still running through his head. Screams like sirens plagued his mind, and sleep could never come to him easily. His boss- no, no longer his boss at all- Kennedy, _dearest_ Kennedy, had been killed. Murdered. Assassinated. Shot mercilessly until his body had finally given in and flailed down against the motorcar he had been previously riding around in. Everyone was shocked. _He _was shocked.

_November 22, 1963._

He still remembered it like it was yesterday. And truly, it was; a year for a country passed like a mere day. The events still played around in his head, over and over again. Dear sweet Jackie- he wondered how she was coping now. She had not changed out of her dress when the new president was being sworn in. "I want," she had choked out, tears still on the edges of her puffy red eyes. "I want them to see what they've _done_."

They had buried him in Arlington National Cemetary. It had been a Monday.

He couldn't even control his own _people_. Couldn't even protect his own boss! He never even found out who had done it. He'd never know if it had been that suspicious scum, Oswald. How great of a nation was he, really? He had claimed and claimed and _claimed_ to the other nations that he was the _hero_, that he would be great, that he would make it and he _thought_ he'd proved it in 1812, and again in 1919 and 1945 with the World Wars, but he hadn't. Maybe he was wrong after all. Maybe he wasn't the great nation he'd made himself out to be. Crazed doubts swirled madly about in his mind, his people didn't believe in him, his new boss probably wouldn't believe in him, _he_ didn't even believe in him...!

He had given up trying to hold back tears now. The only argument he'd had for not crying was that heroes _never _cried, but now that he was doubting even _this_ he supposed it was alright if he just opened up like a fresh wound and bled out the pain, and just sobbed. No one would hear, anyways, and even if they did, they wouldn't come. He was probably- no, he knew it for sure now, he _was _just the obnoxious immature country the other nations said he was. He choked out silent screams, wounded and confused. Where would he go, what would he do?

What would he do now? What did this all mean? He wanted to ask, but he was afraid. He didn't know who to ask, and where to turn to. He felt dizzy, as if he were still spinning, and there was no way out.

He'd never felt so lost. He curled tighter, trying to numb the gnawing ache in his stomach.

"_Love, love love_,"

It was a familiar voice. He couldn't mistake that posh accent. But the gentleness opposed to the usual prude tone the voice had shook him. Was the other _singing_? He had never heard this character singing before. And he had never heard this song. He looked up to see the familiar green eyes topped by those ridiculously large eyebrows- that familiarity made him long for something he couldn't understand. "En..England?" he sniffed out in confusion.

The older nation said nothing, he just continued the curious song. "_There's nothing you can do that can't be done, nothing you can sing that can't be sung..._"

The young broken country sat up straighter and wiped his running nose on his sleeve. "What are you singing?" he croaked out, not even ashamed at how pitiful he sounded now. A soft _hiccup_ escaped his lips as his sobs subsided, entranced and strangely comforted by the surprisingly dulcet tones of said England's voice. The British nation took a step closer, still singing, "_...nothing you can say, but you can learn how to play the game, it's easy..._"

He tucked his hand under the younger nation's chin, lifting up the rounder face. Wavering blue eyes met the emerald green. "_There's nothing you can make that can't be made, n__o one you can save that can't be saved..._"

Said younger nation couldn't speak. He didn't understand why, but he had stopped spinning. He could feel his heart leaping up in his throat, and everything just didn't seem so hopeless anymore. He just blinked slowly, in a daze or under some sort of trance. "What is this?" he whispered, He felt helpless under the reminiscent touch of his ex-guardian's hands, but he really didn't mind. A warmth was spreading to him, and he didn't want him to stop. "Hush, America," Britain said softly. "It's going to be alright."

Then he brought America's head onto his shoulder. Caressing the baby-soft strands of blond hair, he continued his tender cooing, "_Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time- It's easy..._"

"_All you need is love._"

America cried in England's shoulder.

"_All you need is love._"

He didn't know why, but he was smiling, in spite of it all. His cries had finally died away, and he could feel himself healing right there and then, and never had he loved the older nation more than now. He intertwined his fingers with England's free hand, trying to soak in as much of the other's mesmerizing warmth as he could. England just smiled and finished the consoling tune quietly in the younger nation's ear:

"_All you need is love, love..._"

"_...love is all you need._"

_"... nothing could have prepared the Americans- indeed, the world- for the devastation of the Kennedy assassination and it's attendant effects on a nation's beliefs in itself and in the possibilities of the future. But then, like a proverbial breath of fresh air, the Fab Four (The Beatles) arrived on the scene in February 1964, and a nation of mourning became transfixed... Their Englishness no doubt played a central role in their initial charm...Armed with their ready wit and their unflinching smiles, the Beatles were simply too much for the Americans to resist..." _

- Davis and Womack, "Reading the Beatles: Cultural Studies, Literary Criticism, And the Fab Four."

Credentials

Davis, Todd F., and Kenneth Womack. _Reading the Beatles: Cultural Studies, Literary Criticism, And the Fab Four_. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2006. 1-2. Web. 26 Oct. 2012.

"JFK ASsassination." _Mary Ferrell Foundation_. Mary Ferrell Foundation, n.d. Web. 26 Oct. 2012. . /JFK_Assassination.

And here are where I found the lyrics to The Beatles' "All You Need is Love." .


End file.
